The Inner Darkness
by Dr. Dredd
Summary: When Sheppard's team finds themselves living other people's lives, will their friendship survive the tragedy that pits them against each other? COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

The puddlejumper emerged from the stargate and flew leisurely over the planet's surface below. From what John could see on the forward screen, it looked like a verdant world. There was one large landmass that was covered in green and a few small islands in a turquoise ocean. It seemed quite inviting.

Elizabeth sat next to John in the co-pilot's seat, watching the screen in front of her with an eager expression on her face. He knew she enjoyed going offworld, even though she didn't get a chance to do it very often. Ronon and Teyla were in the back of the jumper, both seemingly dozing but capable of instant alertness at the drop of a hat.

John stretched languidly and put his arms behind his head. "Remind me again about what these people have that we want?"

Elizabeth glanced sidelong at him with a small smile. "You'd know if you had been at the briefing."

"Hey, blame Beckett, not me! He wouldn't let me out of the infirmary any sooner, and Rodney's still grounded."

"And of course you didn't delay a bit just to miss a boring staff meeting." She bit back a laugh at John's wounded-puppy expression. "Oh, all right. The Cordarians may have access to Ancient technology. Ladon, of all people, told me about it during our last conversation." In order to maintain their somewhat uneasy alliance, the two leaders had instituted a monthly radio dialogue.

"And you trust him?" John asked incredulously. "I mean, I know they're supposed to be our friends now, but…"

She snorted. "Of course not. However, we do have an understanding." Weir now had a slightly menacing look on her face. "I told him in no uncertain terms that if, for some reason, we don't come back in the same condition as when we left, Major Lorne has orders to cut off all further medical assistance to the Genii."

"Ah," the colonel said after a minute, getting it. "Carson's still treating his sister, isn't he?"

Elizabeth nodded. "She's doing quite well, from what I understand, but needs long-term chemotherapy in order to stay well. I doubt Ladon will jeopardize that."

"Good for you," John said. He turned his attention back to flying for a few minutes, as they were nearing their destination. "So what kind of tech did Ladon say they had?" he finally asked after putting the jumper on autopilot.

"He wasn't actually sure," Elizabeth replied. "My guess is that, despite kidnapping Lorne and his team for samples, his gene therapy doesn't work very well. He still needs us in order to operate Ancient equipment with any degree of accuracy." She shrugged and smiled faintly. "I imagine he isn't too pleased about that."

"No, I wouldn't think so. Well, whatever it is, we'll find out soon enough. Our ETA is approximately five minutes; time to put on your game face."

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

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She woke up as dawn was breaking, started to get dressed, then froze. For a minute, nothing in her bedroom looked familiar to her. She glanced at the coarse woolen sweater that was neatly folded on a chair, thinking that it should instead be a red silk blouse. She also wanted to find a small clip that fit neatly behind her right ear, even though nothing in her possession even remotely resembled an object like that.

The strange sensation of _wrongness_ only lasted a moment, though. Then it was gone, and she was firmly in control again. She was Lyssa, Chief Mediator of her people, and it wouldn't do to be seen as weak or confused.

She stepped outside her small cottage to watch as the village slowly stirred to life. A regiment of the Guard marched by on the brick road in front of her, and they snapped to attention as they saw who was looking. Their Commander, a broad-shouldered man named Ranulf Dar, grinned cheekily at her as he passed. She, in turn, pretended to frown at his hair, which was arranged in ropes in a very unorthodox fashion. It was almost a daily ritual for them.

As the column of soldiers was marching out of her sight, her eye fell on one of the men bringing up the rear. She couldn't recall seeing him before, but he seemed somehow familiar.. His hair was also unconventional – what was it with the military these days? – and there was an intensity about him that was vaguely unsettling. His eyes met hers as he passed by, and for a split second she again felt the strange sensation she'd had earlier.

"_John, you can't!"_

"_I have to, and you know it."_

Then the soldiers were gone, and she went back inside her cottage to start the day's business. She expected her first visitor to be Tiana, the village herbalist. The woman was a skilled healer; there were few maladies that did not respond to her concoctions of herbs or roots. "Only the one that matters most," the mediator thought bitterly.

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It was late in the afternoon before the Commander finally dismissed them. Normally Josin would be the first into the barracks shower, eager to wash off the day's grime and return home. Not today, though. He knew his wife, Leela, wanted to talk to him about their son, and he suspected it wasn't going to be a conversation he wanted to have.

His uncharacteristic reticence hadn't gone unnoticed. As Josin was lacing up his shirt, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "You all right?" Ranulf rumbled. He sounded gruff, but the concern in his eyes belied his brusqueness.

Josin forced himself to sound casual. "Yeah, boss, I'm good. Just a little preoccupied with getting stuff ready for winter." He busied himself with checking the spikiness of his hair.

The Commander seemed to accept that without question. "I know what you mean. Marna and I are really busting our humps to seal all the cracks in our house. I think it's gonna be a cold one!" He grinned and changed the subject. "How's that boy of yours? Is he going to be joining his dad in the Guard anytime soon?"

If Ranulf noticed that Josin's smile became a little forced, he didn't comment on it. Josin just shrugged. "He doesn't show signs of having made up his mind about anything yet." Trevan was thirteen, an age where most of his friends were choosing their life paths. Josin hadn't pushed him, figuring that the boy would make his decision at his own time. In retrospect, though, he wondered if this was the beginning of the signs that something was wrong.

Ranulf shrugged. "That happens sometimes. Well, he's welcome here if he wants it." Josin nodded and turned to leave, not noticing the shrewd look the Commander was shooting at his back.

A wave of dizziness hit him without warning as he made his way through the town, and he almost stumbled. For a minute, it seemed as if he were somewhere else. _His vision blurred, but out of the corner of his eye he could see a city of metal and glass. He was flying over it, then swooping down to skim above the water that surrounded it. The city was beautiful, and it called to him._

Then it was gone, and he was once again on a winding path near the edge of the village. He was so lost in thought that he almost walked right past his house. It took his son's yell to bring him out of his reverie. "Hey, Dad! You live over here, remember?" Trevan smirked at him from where he was sitting on the front steps.

In spite of himself, Josin found himself returning Trevan's grin. "Wise guy." He ruffled his son's hair as he walked past him into the house. "Have pity on your old man. His mind isn't as sharp as it used to be."

Trevan snorted. "Yeah, right." He jumped up and followed Josin inside. "Hey, Mom! Dad's home. Now can we eat? I'm starved!" Despite the obvious jest in his son's words, Josin thought with a shock that Trevan looked much thinner than normal.

Leela emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Yes, now we can eat – after you set the table." She pretended to snap the towel at him. "Git!" With a mock cry of fright, Trevan dodged the towel and ran past his mother into the kitchen. When she was sure the boy wasn't watching, Leela fixed her husband with a look that was equal parts fear and despair.

Josin's heart sank.

Later, after Trevan had gone to bed, the two of them sat in the kitchen. "We can't pretend anymore," Leela said in a voice that sounded close to tears.

"We don't know for sure that he has the syndrome," Josin said, hoping that he sounded confident.

"What else could it be? He's always hungry and always eating, but he's still losing weight."

"Is anyone who came into contact with him sick?" That was usually the clincher.

"Not yet," Leela whispered.

Josin lowered his voice. "There haven't been any mood swings. He hasn't become withdrawn or listless," he said, but he was thinking of a boy who was uninterested in planning for the future. He sighed.

Leela heard it. "What are we going to do?" she cried softly. "They'll kill him!"

"I don't know," Josin whispered. "I just don't know."

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_That night, he dreamt of the city in the sea. He could see more detail this time, like the shape of the spires and the pattern of lights. Oddly enough, the only person he saw was someone who appeared to be Lyssa, dressed in an unfamiliar uniform. He couldn't have said why, but it seemed to him that both of them truly belonged there._

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Tiana made her way towards the marketplace, hoping to get her business done quickly. She was due to meet with a newly-pregnant woman at her home, and was going to bring her several herbs to add to her diet to ensure a healthy baby. Some she had stored, but others she needed to buy fresh.

Her honey-colored hair was held back by a headband, but enough had escaped to obscure her vision when the wind blew. One particularly heavy gust almost knocked her off her feet, and it was only the quick action of someone standing behind her that prevented her from sprawling on the ground. Tiana turned to face her rescuer with a smile. It was a gangling youth on the verge of beginning the transition to manhood. "Hello, Trevan. Thank you for helping me to avoid being knocked off my feet!"

Trevan grinned shyly back at her and ducked his head. "You're welcome, ma'am. Glad to help."

"I haven't seen you in quite some time, young man. What have you been up to?"

"I've been helping my mom while my dad's on patrol," Trevan said. Leela was responsible for managing the finances of the town, and he helped her keep the books. "I like trying to make all the numbers add up."

Tiana was amused. Trevan was just like his father in many ways. Although Josin was a soldier first and foremost, he also enjoyed performing mathematical calculations and playing with numbers. "Well, I suppose you come by it honestly… are you all right?" The boy's face had scrunched up into an expression of pain, and he held a hand protectively over his belly.

Before Tiana could do or say anything else, Leela rushed up to her son. For an instant, there was an expression of animal fright in her eyes, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. "Trev?" she whispered.

The boy straightened up and his face relaxed. "I'm fine, Mom. Really. Don't worry – it was probably something I ate for lunch."

"Are you sure?"

Trevan rolled his eyes in typical teenager fashion. "Yes, I'm sure. We should go, or we're never going to finish Commander Dar's account by tomorrow."

Leela stole a nervous glance at Tiana. "All right, then." She nodded to the healer. "Pleasant day to you."

"Thank you," replied Tiana. To Trevan, she said, "Please come see me if anything like that happens again. I have several things that can ease pain in the stomach." The boy smiled as he and his mother turned to leave.

Tiana watched them go, a horrible suspicion beginning to form in her mind. She prayed that she was wrong, because children with the syndrome were never allowed to live. She shuddered, and, unbidden, a vision came into her mind.

_A man with compassionate blue eyes dressed in white, radiating fierce determination. "You have to understand, Teyla, that as a doctor I can't just stand by here and let her die. I took an oath to preserve life."_

… Gasping, she shook herself free. She felt like she should know the man, that he was somehow a friend of hers. But who was Teyla?

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Ranulf sat in a cross-legged position on the floor of the barracks. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep and even. Still, he was immediately aware of Tiana as she entered, even though she barely made a sound. His sense of hearing was almost preternaturally strong and was accompanied by an equally acute olfactory sense. He was thus able to identify her by the lingering smell of the herbs she worked with.

Ranulf did not acknowledge Tiana's presence at first. Eyes closed, he continued with his meditation. Only when he had achieved his inner focus did he finally look up at her and nod. "Healer," he said gruffly.

She returned his glance with one of wry amusement. "Hello to you, too, 'Commander.' Still engaging in your battle rituals?"

"Always." Ranulf had come to the village from no one knew where, about twenty years previously. He didn't speak much of his past, but it was obvious that his life had been one of battles and strife.

"I came to talk to you about Josin. Has he been acting any different lately?"

Ranulf thought for a minute. When it came right down to it, how well did he know the man?

"_Is that an order, Sheppard?"_

"_I am beat up, tied up, and couldn't order a pizza right now if I wanted to. But if you need it to be, yeah – it's an order."_

"_Okay."_

Ranulf blinked. Where had that come from? In the brief vision, he had seen himself, Josin, Tiana, and someone else he didn't know. All of them were in unfamiliar uniforms, and their roles were different. He seemed to be under Josin's – no, Sheppard's – command, and she was acting like a warrior instead of a healer.

Very strange.

All he said, though, was, "Josin has seemed a bit preoccupied lately, but otherwise nothing's different. Why?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. I ran into Trevan and Leela earlier today, and she appeared to be worried about something. So I wondered if Josin was acting similarly."

"Hmm. Well, like I said, I hadn't really noticed, but I wasn't specifically looking, either. I'll keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, if you like."

"Thank you," said Tiana. And although she didn't elaborate any further, Ranulf knew what she had to be thinking. For all of their sakes, he prayed that she was wrong.

After Tiana had gone, Ranulf settled back into his meditation pose and closed his eyes again. As the silence descended, more strange scenes swam through his consciousness.

Tiana was in the first one, as was another healer. _"I understand you have some sort of a transmitter in your back. Well, have a seat. Off with your shirt, let's have a look."_ Ranulf instinctively growled at the mention of the transmitter, although he couldn't say why.

The scene shifted. _He, Tiana, Lyssa, and Josin were in some sort of flying craft. Lyssa and Josin were in the front two seats, talking. "The Cordarians may have access to Ancient technology. Ladon, of all people, told me about it during our last conversation," Lyssa said._

Another shift. _The four of them were being guided around the Cordarian village by a pleasant young woman. She was explaining to Lyssa and Josin about the Cordarians' desire to trade for medical technology. Apparently another group of traders called the Genii had come to the village but had not had anything of use to offer. "A terrible sickness afflicts some of our children, and we're looking for a way to stop it."_

Ranulf shuddered as he came back to himself. The syndrome – that was the proverbial elephant in the corner. (_How did he know that phrase?_) Kids who had it appeared perfectly normal at first. Then, when they approached puberty, the trouble started. First they began to lose weight, even though they still ate with healthy appetites. Then came the mood changes – apathy, depression, and bursts of anger. What distinguished the syndrome from the ordinary changes of adolescence were the hallucinations and the sudden sickening of random people around the child.

The Wraith were never far behind after that.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

There was only so much that Carson could take. After Rodney's third visit to the infirmary to whine at him, he'd retreated to his lab with threats of dire retribution if he were disturbed. His last conversation with the physicist had been spectacularly unhelpful. "So help me, Rodney, if you don't stop being a wee baby about the whole thing, I'll have you confined to quarters, too. You're grounded for the next three days as a precaution, and that's the way it is."

"But Colonel Sheppard…"

"Colonel Sheppard didn't hit his head the way you did. And honestly, I still don't know how the two of you managed to piss off the Arlenians so thoroughly. Teyla said they like everybody!"

"They made an exception in our case," mumbled Rodney. "But still…"

Carson had interrupted again. "Enough. The two of you got pelted with rotten fruit as you ran screaming like little girls to the gate. You were unfortunate enough to get hit in the head with something particularly foul, whereas Colonel Sheppard "only" managed to get slugged in the gut. That's why the colonel is out on a mission while I get the pleasure of enjoying your company here at home." He took a deep breath. "Now, why don't you run along. Go terrorize your staff if you must, but try to take it easy. And no caffeine!"

Rodney had muttered something under his breath about kilts and Braveheart, but he finally left.

The physician had sighed with relief as the Canadian's footsteps trailed off, then beat a hasty retreat to the lab. That was where Major Lorne found him a few hours later. Carson was holding a white mouse gently as he inoculated it with the latest formulation of the ATA therapy. He jumped when Lorne cleared his throat, but managed not to drop the mouse. "Bloody hell, Major!"

"Sorry, Dr. B., but I wanted to let you know that Colonel Sheppard's team hasn't returned yet. They've missed two check-ins, in fact."

Beckett turned pale. "Again?" he said. "What can I do to help?"

"I'm going to lead a rescue mission, of course," Lorne replied. "I'd like you to accompany us, just in case any of them are injured."

The physician was moving even before Lorne had finished speaking. "Of course," he said as he put the mouse back in its cage and stripped off the rubber gloves he had been wearing. As the two of them walked quickly down the hall, the major filled Carson in on what he knew, which wasn't much.

"All right," Carson said finally. "Missing for twelve hours on a planet with an unknown type of Ancient technology. I'm going to have to go to the infirmary and assemble a general emergency kit, since I have no idea what we might be dealing with. It won't take long."

Lorne nodded. "Meet us in the jumper bay in ten minutes," he agreed.

As Carson approached the infirmary, someone fell into step with him. Without even looking to see who it was, the physician sighed. "I don't want to hear it, Rodney."

"Well, too bad. You're going to hear it anyway!" Rodney snapped. "Not taking me on this mission would be the height of stupidity. You need me, and you know it!"

"You're not indispensable, lad!"

"Yes, I am." That simple statement brought Carson up short. He turned to look at Rodney with an incredulous expression on his face. "When it comes to Ancient technology, there is no one in this city that knows it better than I do. That's not boasting – it's a simple fact."

The arrogant little bugger was probably right, but Carson still wasn't going to give in that easily. "There's got to be someone here – Radek, maybe! – that can help decipher any text and figure out the technology. Someone who isn't having intermittent headaches and not telling me about them…"

Rodney ignored the latter part of Carson's statement and instead seized upon the opening the physician had given him. "Radek," he said, as if imparting great wisdom, "doesn't have the ATA gene."

Beckett rolled his eyes. "Thank you for reminding me of the gene therapy's failings." And, since he wasn't above trying to annoy Rodney, he added, "Major Lorne and I have the naturally occurring gene. We'll be fine."

The physicist mumbled something else unpleasant-sounding under his breath. "Look. You yourself said that grounding me was precautionary. So most likely I'm not going to keel over dead, right? And if I'm willing to take the miniscule risk in order to help friends who are probably in real danger, well, I'm a big boy, Carson. I think I can be trusted to make my own decisions."

The physician gave Rodney a long look, which Rodney interpreted as disapproval. "Carson!" he snapped.

"Oh, haud yer wheesht. Let's go. Just remember, though, that if you do keel over dead I have a perfect right to say 'I told you so.'"

"Duly noted. Right before I ran into you, I, uh, took the liberty of telling Major Lorne that I'd be going with you, so I'm going to go catch up with him in the jumper bay now."

Carson watched Rodney walk away. "Idiot," he said softly. But he had to admit to some relief, too.

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Tiana stood outside the door of Lyssa's hut, dreading what she had to do next. She had spent the last week surreptitiously observing young Trevan. Unfortunately, there was no doubt in her mind now. He had the syndrome. Sometimes he looked like he was responding to voices in his head that only he could hear. This morning, Leela had patted her son's shoulder while in the marketplace. She almost fainted after that, although she tried desperately to hide it.

There was only one thing that could be done now. In order to prevent the Wraith from descending on them, Trevan was going to have to die, like countless other children throughout their history. Less than five percent of all the children on the entire planet were affected, but all the villages could remember at least one in recent memory.

This disease had been with her people for thousands of years. Tiana didn't know how long it had taken before someone finally made the connection between syndrome victims reaching puberty and Wraith attacks. She also didn't know how and when the consensus was reached that it was better to euthanize the children than try to fight the Wraith, but healers throughout the centuries had been haunted by it.

It would be done humanely, of course. A simple injection of a sleeping potion, followed by one containing an extract from the foxglove plant. Trevan's heart would beat more and more slowly, until it finally stopped. She was worried about the boy's parents, though. From what she knew of Josin, he was a man whose emotions were deeply buried, but anything was possible when he finally unleashed them.

Squaring her shoulders, Tiana knocked at Lyssa's door. The mediator opened it almost immediately. In the evening light, Lyssa's face looked haggard. "Is it…?" she asked.

"Yes."

Lyssa closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, they were hard. "I will witness," she said. "Let's get it over with."

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Josin paced restlessly as Leela readied a few of their most valuable possessions. They could sell them once they had gotten far enough away from this village, and then they would disappear into the sparsely populated area at the center of the continent. He ruthlessly squelched the thought of the countless others that would die when the Wraith came through the portal. In this case, when it came down to the good of the many versus the good of the few, he didn't even have to think twice.

Because the few in question were his family. Family was everything, and you never left anyone behind.

Josin peeked out through the small crack in the curtains of the kitchen window. It was full dark outside now, and he decided that they would leave in another quarter-hour. He looked at Trevan, wondering how much the boy understood of what was going on. When Leela had met him on the way home from work and told him what had happened, she said that Trevan seemed confused and disoriented. He seemed lucid enough now, but it was hard to tell.

And if he was confused, it was perfectly understandable, given what they had had to tell him regarding his sickness and intended fate. As an unspoken rule, the adults in the village tended to keep the knowledge of the syndrome from their children until they were old enough to be past the danger period. But perhaps that was misguided. Kids like Trevan deserved to have more than just a few hours to reconcile themselves to a life turned upside down.

Josin peeked outside again. No one was visible, so he turned to Leela and said, "Let's go. I can't believe that we were the only ones who saw what was happening to Trevan, and we can't take the chance that they'll wait until morning to come for him."

He opened the door, looked from side to side, then beckoned to Leela to bring their son. She led a subdued Trevan out by the hand. Looking at them, Josin was suddenly struck by a vision, hard enough that it almost brought him to his knees…

_He was sitting next to the woman who was Lyssa, yet somehow not. Across a table from them were two of the people they called Cordarians. "I'm sorry," said Lyssa. "We can't give you what you ask for. It's just not possible."_

_The female Cordarian looked down in despair. "You've seen what happens to some of our children. We can't keep living like this. When we heard of what you had developed…"_

"_There has to be another way we can help," he heard himself say._

"_Yes," Lyssa jumped in. "Other types of medicine, the assistance of our doctors. We'd be happy to provide any of that."_

"_No!" the other Cordarian burst in. "This has been going on for far too long. The treatment the Genii told us about – it's the first hint we've ever had that there might be something to end the cycle of death!" Tears leaked from his eyes, and Josin remembered that the man had lost a daughter to the syndrome._

"_I sympathize with you," Lyssa said softly. "I can't even imagine what it feels like. But we just can't give you the retrovirus."_

"Are you okay?" whispered Leela, looking at him fearfully.

"Yeah," Josin replied. "We need to go now!" With every passing moment, he felt more and more trapped. The sooner they were away, the better.

Together, the three of them walked toward the gate of the village that was the closest to their house. He still wasn't exactly sure how he was going to get them through. He hadn't told Leela that, for obvious reasons. If necessary, he'd sacrifice himself and draw the Guards' fire while his wife and son escaped, but he was hoping another way would present itself.

He started to relax when he actually saw the gate. Only one person was in the Guardhouse. Maybe he could distract him while Leela and Trevan slipped through, and he himself could join them a little later. He motioned them to start walking slowly, and then he approached the sentry, plastering his customary smirk onto his face.

Between one step and the next, it all fell apart. The sentry let out a piercing whistle, and they were immediately surrounded by soldiers. Leela cried out and held onto Trevan protectively, trying to place her body between her son and the Guards. Josin reached for his gun, but froze when he felt the cold metal of someone else's being pressed against the back of his neck.

A low rumble came from Josin's unseen assailant. "Thought you might try something," Ranulf said. "I'm sorry as hell, my friend, but we can't let you go." He stepped into Josin's field of vision, and Josin could see the bleak look on his face. The Commander genuinely liked Trevan, and he was already mourning the loss of the boy.

Ranulf jerked his head, and their captors began herding them away from the village gate. "Where are we going?" Leela whispered. Josin put one arm around her and his other arm around Trevan, and didn't answer.

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Tiana watched the procession approaching her workshop. She turned to Lyssa and nodded grimly. In turn, the mediator bowed her head. Neither of them wanted this responsibility, but as village leaders they could not turn away from it.

She looked over the room one last time. Soft pillows had been placed on the couch and two comfortable chairs had been brought in for Josin and Leela. A covered tray holding two glass syringes waited discreetly out of sight. Everything was ready to go.

Heavy footsteps outside the door announced Ranulf's arrival. He and two other Guardsmen entered, flanking Josin, Leela, and Trevan. Leela clutched her son frantically, and Josin had a murderous look on his face. His fists clenched and unclenched, and his eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out. The Guardsmen quietly stepped back, but did not leave the room.

Tiana's primary concern right now was for the boy. She gently pulled him away from Leela and sat him down on the couch. "Trevan." she said softly. "Can you understand me? Do you know where you are?"

His face was blank, but eventually he managed to give a faint nod. He was pretty far gone, but she'd seen children who'd progressed even more rapidly, so that they were unresponsive by this point. She wasn't sure if it was easier or harder this way. His parents would be able to interact with him up until the end, but he would be aware of everything.

She took a deep breath, then let it out and began to speak. In the back of the room, Lyssa wrote down her words. "The date is the fifth day of the twelfth month. Present tonight are myself, Josin and Leela, and their son Trevan. Chief Mediator Lyssa is serving as witness. It has been confirmed that Trevan is afflicted with the syndrome and is at the last stage."

Tiana broke off and squatted down in front of Trevan. "There will be no pain," she said in the gentlest of tones. "I promise you that. The only thing you will feel is drowsiness."

Leela began to weep.

Tiana rose, took the first syringe from the tray, and deftly injected the boy's left arm. Within moments, he was asleep. She eased him into a supine position and reached for the lethal syringe. At the same time, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and she had only seconds to realize that it was Josin launching his body into motion.

He slammed into her, knocking her momentarily senseless.

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The scene in front of Lyssa seemed to unfold in slow motion. Josin's momentum carried both him and Tiana into the ground. He immediately twisted and tried to grab the injector from her. Ranulf was quicker, though, and reached it first. In one fluid movement, he picked it up and threw it toward one of his men. At the same time, he was rolling to his feet to plant a knee in Josin's back.

It was over in seconds. Looking dazed, Tiana picked herself up from the floor and returned to her task. As she took back the needle, Josin could bear it no more and let out a primal howl. "How could you do this? You're a healer – doesn't that mean anything to you?" His gaze fell on Lyssa and seemed to bore right through her. "And you, the mediator." He spat on the floor. "Where's the justice in this? How can you just stand here and watch?!"

As she opened her mouth to answer, she suddenly made a seamless transition into one of her visions. _She, Ranulf, Josin, and Tiana were walking out of the village's main hall toward a barrel-shaped craft. The sad-faced female Cordarian was saying, "Are you absolutely sure there's nothing we can do to convince you?"_

"_No. I'm sorry. But the offer of other medical assistance still stands. Our Chief Medical Officer is excellent, and he would do his very best to find an answer for you." She had to fight off an internal shudder. She was still having a difficult time comprehending how these people could kill their own children. She understood the feeling of having one's back up against a wall, but couldn't understand how they had come to this solution._

"_Before you go, would you at least come look at some of our history?" the male Cordarian asked. "We've preserved some records from earlier in our civilization, and they might help to paint a better picture of who we are and how we came to this point." His female counterpart gave him a strange look, but didn't say anything._

_Lyssa exchanged glances with Josin. Behind them, she knew that Ranulf was looking around warily. This sounded a little odd, but she couldn't think of any real reason to refuse. "All right, we'll look. But it won't change our minds about the virus."_

_The four of them were led to a building toward the edge of the village. The male Cordarian preceded them inside. When they entered, though, the room seemed empty except for some odd looking equipment under one window. So far, they hadn't yet seen any exciting examples of technology. Was that about to change?_

_As they approached the window, a beam of light shot out from the wall and struck Josin in the forehead. It held him immobile for a moment, then passed on to Ranulf, then Tiana. A minute later it enveloped her, and blackness descended._

Lyssa blinked and found herself back in Tiana's workshop. "I don't…" she started to say, then her voice trailed off. She saw that while she had been otherwise occupied, Josin had attempted one last futile lunge to stop the procedure. Ranulf now had him in a headlock, but the Commander's face was as desolate as the man he restrained.

"Damn it, Sheppard! Do you think any of us wants this? We do it to save our planet, but do you think it's not killing Tiana inside? Or Lyssa? Or _me_?"

Who was Sheppard?

Josin made a noise suspiciously like a choked-off sob, and Lyssa turned to see Tiana holding an empty syringe and moving away from the couch. Leela, who had grabbed one of the chairs for support, seemed to crumple. The healer made a move to assist, but Josin reached his wife first. He sat on the other chair and held her close, then looked up again at Tiana. Lyssa couldn't see the expression on his face, but the other woman actually took a step back.

Josin snarled, "You don't touch her or me. Ever. Again."

Everyone else retreated, giving Josin and Leela as much privacy as they could. Lyssa continued to record the events unfolding in front of her. After what seemed like forever but was probably only a half hour, Trevan's breathing began to slow. As they watched, his chest rose, fell, and didn't rise again. Leela gave a low moan and doubled over.

Lyssa made a final notation on her paper and signed it. It would be placed in the archives to join the death records of every other syndrome victim since the village's founding centuries ago. Feeling incredibly old, she raised her head to find Josin staring at her. His eyes smoldered with a barely contained hatred.

"I hope this haunts you for the rest of your life," he whispered. "It's certainly going to haunt me."

A roaring noise filled Lyssa's hearing. She opened her mouth to respond but was overcome by darkness.

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She heard the voices even before she saw anything. "Oh, God. Carson, what the hell happened here?"

"How should I know, Rodney? Elizabeth, love, can you open your eyes for me?"

Elizabeth? Who was that? Who was she, for that matter?

"Damn. Neither she nor Colonel Sheppard are responding. Teyla and Ronon are in slightly better shape, though. Rodney, I'm going to need you to find out as much about that probe as you can."

"On it!"

"And Major Lorne, I'm going to need medical backup…."

Her memory slowly started to come back. She gradually remembered that she was Elizabeth Weir, and she had come on this mission with John, Ronon, and Teyla. They had come here to trade and investigate rumors of Ancient technology, and they had gone to see some sort of artifact…

Elizabeth gasped and her eyes snapped open, causing a lightning bolt of pain to lance through her head. She made a tiny squeak, but it was enough for Rodney to hear. "Lizabeth? Are you okay? CARSON!"

She winced at Rodney's shout, and he grimaced. "Sorry!" he said in a stage whisper. "What happened?"

Elizabeth didn't answer. The rest of her memory slammed back into place. She recalled getting trapped in the energy beam and living someone else's life. In horror, she remembered what "she" had done.

She'd been directly responsible for ordering the death of a child.

She only became aware that she was crying when Rodney sat down next to her and put an arm awkwardly around her shoulders. A little ways off, Teyla looked equally as devastated. Carson was at her side, gripping her hands and speaking in a low and earnest tone. John had also roused and was being briefed by Lorne. Typically, he seemed to be brushing off any attempts to find out how he had fared. Ronon was by himself at the other end of the room they were in, and he'd apparently made it absolutely clear that any attention was unwanted.

Elizabeth closed her eyes again and put her head on Rodney's shoulder. She didn't care how it looked. Right now, the only thing she wanted was to sink back into oblivion.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The six of them sat around the conference room table back in Atlantis. Elizabeth, John, Teyla, and Ronon had been subjected to brain scans and an overnight stay in the infirmary, but even the Scot had to admit that he could find no residual physical effects from their ordeal. After they'd been released, they left quickly, avoiding any attempts at conversation.

"From what I can tell," Rodney was saying, "it was some kind of memory repository." Once they'd reassured themselves that their friends were recovering, he and Carson had been traveling back and forth to the Cordarian village to do some more in-depth study. "At one point, their civilization was much larger. When it began to dwindle, the Cordarians started storing memories of vital skills."

"Why was this particular set of memories stored?" John asked, his voice harsh.

"And why did their civilization decline?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

Rodney looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure what sent their civilization into a downturn," he admitted. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was due to repeated Wraith cullings over a short period of time. Apparently at one point, they'd relaxed their policy about euthanizing syndrome victims." He looked down at the table and sighed. "They became much more… draconian after that."

Carson took up the narrative. "These memories are mandatory "viewing" for anyone who would serve as a leader. A reminder that there is a human face to the tragedy."

"They thought it might help to convince us where words had failed," said Elizabeth.

"Aye. The probe was supposed to scan your minds and match you up with the person whose memories would be closest to your frame of reference. That's why each of you got the roles you did, and why the names seemed so similar to your own. "Leela's" and "Trevan's" memories were also available, if anyone had been compatible."

Despite himself, Rodney was fascinated. "It's incredible! We think it's Ancient, but…"

"But it didn't work as intended on the four of you," Carson said, glaring at Rodney for his overenthusiasm. "Your physiology is different enough from the Cordarians' that your own memories partially bled through. The probe tried to compensate by increasing the gain, which is why you all were a bit disoriented for a while afterward."

Teyla spoke up for the first time from where she was sitting next to the physician. "Carson, what exactly is the syndrome?" Her eyes were haunted, and she looked like she hadn't slept very much since they'd returned home.

Even as he answered, he reached over to squeeze her shoulder. "Based on everything we've learned over the last two years, I'd say that the Cordarians represent the initial stage of the mutation process that began when the Iratus bugs bit humans. And yes, Colonel, I know you hate those bugs. Lord knows I do, too."

From Teyla: "I… do not understand."

"When humans were first bitten, DNA exchange took place. That's how the Wraith eventually came about. But the evolution couldn't have happened overnight. There had to have been multiple intermediate stages; I think this is the initial one. You said it yourself – kids with the syndrome can't get nourishment from human food, they drain a small amount of life force so that people around them get sick, and they hear voices."

Now Teyla got it. "You're saying that the voices are actually the Wraith telepathic network."

"Exactly. I suspect the kids don't have any control over the ability because their telepathic ability is only rudimentary, unlike the Athosians with the gift."

"And when they do tap into the network…" John started to say.

"… the Wraith investigate to see what's happening." Rodney finished for him.

Elizabeth rubbed her temples as if her head was still hurting. "So the Cordarians think that the only way to stop these Wraith attacks is to get rid of the precipitating factors."

"Yes." Carson hesitated, then said softly. "The memories you experienced happened hundreds of years ago. You had no control over anything that you witnessed; it wasn't your fault." He looked at Teyla and Elizabeth, then squarely met John's gaze. "Colonel, you never had a son. Teyla and Elizabeth, you didn't actually kill anyone."

Nobody responded except Ronon. "Would the retrovirus help them?"

"No." The physician spoke firmly, without hesitation. "For one, the effects aren't permanent, as we unfortunately found out. Furthermore, the retrovirus was designed to work against full Wraith. The Cordarians don't have the same DNA."

"Damn it, there has to be something we can do!" John protested.

Carson exchanged a glance with Elizabeth. They knew that John liked children, but was there more going on than just that? "Lad, I will do everything that I possibly can to help these people. I don't like to see innocent children die, either."

"What are some of the options?" Elizabeth asked.

Beckett chose his words carefully. "I'd need to do a full genome mapping before I could do anything, since we have no idea what genes are involved. It would also be useful if I could examine a syndrome victim." Elizabeth heard what he didn't say – that he would likely have to attend some autopsies, as well. "In the end, I might be able to come up with a way to turn off the relevant genes. Or if not, then perhaps a method of prenatal genetic diagnosis. It's hard to say for sure."

"What should parents do if that test came back positive?" Elizabeth sighed and stood up. "Well, we obviously won't solve things overnight. Thank you, Carson. Rodney." She looked into John's face for a long moment and seemed about to say something else, but then turned on her heel and left.

John also turned to go, but Teyla stood between him and the door. She reached out to put a hand on his arm as he passed. "Colonel…?" she said, her voice trailing off.

He looked down at his diminutive teammate, then gently dislodged her hand. "I know, Teyla," he said roughly. "I just can't talk about it yet. Maybe someday, but not now." He gave the briefest of nods to the physician, then walked away in the opposite direction from Elizabeth.

"Are you okay, Teyla?" asked Carson.

"I will be, eventually," she said. "Thank you, Carson, for being here. I do not think I could do what you do. To have power over life and death like that… in some ways, you are stronger than I."

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_That night, she dreamed of the village. In many ways, it was like the one she grew up in. A small, close-knit community where everyone depended on everyone else for survival. A weakness in one was a weakness in all. But communities on Athos did not kill those they deemed dangerous. They did not… cull… their own people. That was the difference._

_But what if they did? Would those few with the gift, the ability to sense the Wraith, have been weeded out? After all, perhaps they, too, might eventually lose control and draw the killers to them. Was it only chance that put her into a society that had allowed her to live to adulthood? In the dream she saw herself on the couch instead of Trevan._

She woke up screaming.

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_Elizabeth didn't dream that night, for the simple reason that she couldn't sleep. As a diplomat on Earth, she had seen worse horrors and witnessed worse suffering. The death she witnessed via the Cordarian memory device had been quick and peaceful. However, the person whose memories she had experienced had been responsible for it. On Earth, her own actions had never directly led to a killing._

Or had they, and she just didn't know it?

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Elizabeth sat at her desk, holding a cup of coffee that had long since grown cold. She had been reading the same report without seeing it for the last three hours. She was deeply concerned about recent events, but especially worried about John. Ever since their return from the planet a week ago, he had been withdrawn and distant. She couldn't complain about his work since he fulfilled his duties as well as ever, but it was as if he had put up an impenetrable barrier between himself and his teammates, herself included.

Rodney was worried, too. He had told her that John was no longer hanging around the labs when not involved in anything else. He was no longer poking around just for the sake of teasing the physicist. And while Rodney would normally welcome the peace and quiet, this seemed downright unnatural. He even used the word "creepy," which was not typically in his vocabulary.

Elizabeth forced herself to put down her coffee and stand up. She walked down to the infirmary and stood outside Carson's door for a long time. She wasn't really sure what she was going to say to him; she only knew that she had to say something or else remain lost in her brooding.

"You know, it generally helps if I can see the person who wants to talk to me."

Elizabeth looked up with a start and realized that Carson had been sitting at his desk and watching her with not a little concern. He smiled and gestured for her to come into his office. "I know I can be a wee bit grumpy at times, but I hope I've never given you the impression that you have to be nervous about coming to see me. Rodney, maybe, but not you, love."

Feeling slightly sheepish, she entered his office and sat down, politely declining the offer of refreshment. "Now, tell me how I can help."

Briefly, Elizabeth related her thoughts about John. "But it isn't just him," she admitted. "I can't get it out of my mind, either. Over and over, I keep seeing the boy take his last breath and Josin – John! – saying that he hopes I'm haunted for the rest of my life." She gave a rueful little laugh. "It's certainly haunting me now."

Carson leaned back in his chair and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Do you think this is a side effect of the device?" Elizabeth asked, suddenly afraid.

The physician was quick to reassure her. "No, no. None of your scans gave me reason to believe that there was any structural change caused by the probe. Unfortunately, I think this is good old-fashioned post-traumatic stress." He shook his head bemusedly. "Although I think that the writers of the DSM meant for the "recurrent and intrusive memories" to be your own, not someone else's!"

She didn't know how to respond to that.

"I think this will fade with time," Carson said earnestly. "You were put in a horrible position, and you thought it was real. Of course it's going to be vivid. But you'll adapt, and it will probably make you a better leader. It's small consolation, I know, but…"

"I hope we can help them," Elizabeth said softly.

Carson smiled again, and this time it reached his eyes. "You're amazing. After what the Cordarians put you through, nobody would blame you for wanting to lock that planet out of the dialing computer."

She shook her head. "They took a great risk, tricking us that way. But it really drove home how desperate they are. How can I not respond to that?"

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Much later that evening, Carson walked into the mess hall to get himself a late-night snack to go with the pot of tea he'd brewed in his lab. Normally the only people there at this hour were a few of the night-shift soldiers or Rodney, but tonight John was sitting by himself at a table next to one of the windows. The colonel was holding a cup of coffee and looking out over the ocean. He seemed a million miles away.

Carson walked to the serving counter, greeted the corporal on duty, and came away with two cheese danishes. (Not exactly nutritious, but more likely to tempt a hungry man.) He walked over to John's table, sat down, and had pushed one plate under his nose before the colonel finally reacted. "Not hungry, Doc," he said after a minute.

"Eat," Carson said firmly. "If I could surprise a black-ops trained pilot like that, you're obviously not at the top of your game."

John was startled into a brief chuckle. Then he picked up his fork and started to methodically demolish the pastry. "Satisfied?" he asked after he was finished.

"Not really," said the physician, "but this'll do for now. How long are you going to keep things bottled up inside? Until something explodes?"

The colonel's expression turned to stone. "Maybe," he said. "I'm certainly not going to talk about it to anyone else who went on the mission. And, no offense, Carson, but I really don't want to talk to you or Heightmeyer, either."

"No, of course not." Carson concentrated on his own danish for a few minutes and waited. "You can't out-stubborn a Scot," he finally pointed out.

"Maybe yes, maybe no." He ran a hand through his unruly hair and glared at his friend. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Yes. Now tell me what's really bothering you."

"All right, you really want to hear it? Fine." John started to talk. He told it all in a flat tone of voice, leaving out none of the particulars. Even at the worst points, he ruthlessly delivered all the details. He described what it was like to watch someone you thought you trusted put down a member of your family like a dog. "All nice and tidy," he said bitterly.

"I know I said it before, but that wasn't really Elizabeth or Teyla. I don't think that's what they'd do in reality."

"No?" John almost whispered. "You yourself said that the probe matched people with "compatible" memories. It could have chosen to "cast" either of them as someone else, but it didn't. What does that tell you?"

Ah. Now he was beginning to understand what was eating at John. "It tells me that the ladies in question, when faced with a no-win situation, would act to maximize the number of people they could save. It's not something I would fault them for."

"I would!"

"I know you would," Carson said quietly. "It's what got you into trouble in Afghanistan." He held up a hand as John started to protest. "I'm not faulting your viewpoint, either. It's made you an incredibly effective commanding officer. But I think you need to consider both sides when a situation is this complicated."

"What about Taranis?" John challenged. He wasn't going to let it go. "I could have cut our losses after a few loads of people on the Daedalus. Instead we saved everyone."

The physician sat back and looked at John shrewdly. "This bothers you, doesn't it? That you might not always try to save as many as you could, especially if it puts your own people at risk?"

The colonel slammed down his fork and stood up. "Do me a favor. Don't try to psychoanalyze me, Carson. If I wanted that, I'd have gone to Heightmeyer. And before you get any ideas, it's not going to happen." He strode out of the mess hall without looking back.

Carson sat there in his wake. Given John's personality, he wondered if there were any other possible way the conversation could have gone. Probably not. "_At least I got him to express an emotion!_" he thought wryly.

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John was tired. His conversation with the physician had left him feeling physically and emotionally drained, but his body still refused to relax. So he tried running a few laps around the city. That didn't work.

He tried sitting on his bed and strumming his guitar. That didn't work, either.

So finally he gave up and grabbed his gym bag. John had been avoiding the gym because he wasn't in the mood to deal with other people, but a workout was probably the only thing that would release enough tension to allow him to sleep. When he got there, he was pleased to find the place empty. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began a series of stretching exercises that he'd been taught by a physical therapist after landing the wrong way on a parachute jump.

When he was done, his eye fell on a set of sticks that the Marines were using to train with Teyla. Thoughtfully, he picked one up and started to swing it. Then he picked up the other one, dropped into combat stance, and started to spar against an imaginary opponent. He twirled a stick and thrust it, following up with a low, cross-cutting sweep. With his other hand, he executed a series of short, sharp jabs, imagining the expression on Teyla's face if she saw that her pupil was actually practicing.

Teyla.

She'd been a member of his team for so long, and fit in so well, he forgot sometimes that she was also leader of her people. Had she ever been forced to do anything like what the real Tiana – or whatever the woman's name actually was – had been compelled to do? Not that he'd ever admit it, but Carson had probably been right when he pointed out that John had a tendency to put the welfare of his own people above people he didn't know. He didn't believe in "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few" crap.

Truth be told, it did bother him a little. He wasn't callous or unfeeling, after all. But he felt that he was the only one he could rely on to keep his people safe, whether his people were his team or a non-existent son. And wasn't that just fucked-up! Heightmeyer would have a field day if she knew. She'd spout some psychobabble about fear of loss, or separation anxiety, or something like that.

Simply put, though, John just didn't think he could trust people. And it hurt every time he was proven right, especially if it involved people he thought he could have faith in. But to dwell on that for too long meant going crazy, so instead he continued to battle his invisible demons with his very tangible Athosian fighting sticks.

"John?"

He was startled, but he managed to hang on to the sticks and straighten up out of his fighting crouch. He'd been so intent on his workout that he hadn't heard anyone else come into the gym. "Hi, Teyla," he said without turning around.

"Your form is improving," she said.

"Thanks." He waited, but she didn't say anything else. "Was there something you wanted?"

Teyla's voice sounded tired. "I was having some difficulty sleeping, so I thought to come here to center myself. I should have realized I wouldn't be the only one."

Now John turned to face her. There were dark circles under Teyla's eyes and she was paler than usual. From the looks of things, she was having as hard a time as he was. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "I know the feeling." He hesitated, then gestured with one of the sticks. "Care to join me?"

In answer, she reached into her own bag and took out her sticks. They bowed to each other formally and settled into their typical stances. At John's nod, they began slowly circling each other. Teyla lunged first, and John neatly blocked it. She raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't comment on his skills. Then John lunged back, and for awhile neither of them concentrated on anything other than the battle.

The first time they slowed down, John asked, "Did Charin teach you to work with medicinal herbs, too?"

"She tried," was the reply. "Unfortunately, I was no better at recognizing useful plants than I was at cooking with them."

"Huh. Well, at least you did okay when learning first aid skills from Carson."

Teyla launched another series of blows, effectively ending the conversation for the moment. The next time they needed a breather, she said, "Dr. Beckett was a very good teacher, yes. Why do you ask?"

John shrugged as best he could while staying alert for an ambush. "Just curious," he said casually. "I was just trying to figure out why that probe matched us with those specific memories."

"I see. So have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Figured it out." A hint of anger had appeared in Teyla's voice. Suddenly, she feinted to the left, then sprang towards John's unprotected right side.

He managed to parry the attack. "I don't know," he drawled. "Guess it wasn't for your medical skills… or ethics."

Teyla froze and dropped the fighting sticks. "How can you say that, John?" her voice cracked.

John knew he shouldn't be doing this. His teammates certainly hadn't deliberately set out to hurt him; they hadn't had a choice in what the probe forced them to relive. And Teyla's presence in the gym tonight was evidence that she was also having trouble dealing with what had happened. Nevertheless, part of him wanted to lash out and make sure he wasn't the only one hurting. "The probe obviously decided you were compatible with someone who could kill an innocent child. What am I supposed to think?"

Stung, she snapped back. "As a leader, you learn that you are responsible for many other people besides your friends and family. Part of that is knowing that you can't save everyone. Perhaps there was a reason you were not matched with someone in command!"

John was beginning to have an odd sense of déjà vu. "And you alone decide who to save?"

"I've always done the best I can for my people. What else do you want from me?"

Thinking back to a night in a jumper waiting for a man named Orrin, John threw Teyla's own words back at her. "Too much, I fear."

Teyla looked like someone had slugged her in the gut. She walked over to the window seat and sat down heavily, putting her face in her hands. After several minutes, she whispered, "I think I finally understand what you meant that night."

John felt his anger begin to slip away. He sighed and sat down, too. "Yeah. Likewise."

"Do you know why I can't sleep?" she continued. "It's because I saw how they treated someone who could hear the Wraith. Obviously, I can identify with that."

John looked down at his hands. "There but for the grace of God..."

"Yes." Then, tensing as if waiting for the explosion, "And if those of us with the gift ever lose control of it, perhaps the Cordarians' solution is actually the kindest option."

She was expecting him to go ballistic, thought John. He couldn't blame her – that was certainly the impression he'd given. But it wasn't going to happen. "I don't see it that way," he said simply. "They've had thousands of years to deal with this. In all that time, they couldn't have figured out something else to do?"

She just shook her head. John realized he couldn't even begin to understand her dual perspective on recent events. One thing he was sure of, though. "I've learned a few things in this galaxy. One of them is that the only one you can absolutely count on to help your family is you. And I intend to do just that, right up to the minute I stop breathing."

Teyla smiled faintly, the first one he'd seen out of her all evening. No doubt she was remembering the awkward conversation they'd had on the Daedalus. Well, he meant it. His team was his family just as much as if they had been related by blood. Actually, given everything they'd gone through, perhaps the term "blood relative" needed to be redefined.

They sat there in silence for a long time. John still sensed a slight reticence about Teyla, and he also had a few issues left to work out. But they'd made a good start tonight. When she stood up to leave, he rose, too. Hesitantly, she reached for his shoulders and inclined her head, and he joined her in the Athosian greeting.

A good start.

FIN

_Note about the title: This story was inspired in part by the Star Trek Next Generation episode "The Inner Light." Like Picard, the team will always remember this._

_Thanks to all who reviewed. This was a difficult story to write, so the reviews are welcome._


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